A Lesson in History
by Darkwood Princess
Summary: Or 'Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it'. When a powerful new race of aliens decides Captain Kirk needs to learn a lesson (or two, or six) from the past or face the destruction of all important to him in the present, will Jim finally understand the age old adage? Or will he discover that America's Civil War period is more than the cocky Captain can handle?
1. Prologue

**AN: So I was watching Liberty's Kids with my sibs this morning, and the idea of American history stuck with me all day. After tossing a couple ideas around, I decided that it would be fun to see the crew stuck in Civil War America. Only for some reason Kirk ended up being the only one with knowledge of the change and the Dignusians (a latin pun for those linguistically inclined) popped into existence. They have their roots in the Organians of the original series. As for why I chose AOS over TOS? I was watching a movie with Chris Pine in it and the comedy was too much to pass up. **

" _Captain's Log: Stardate 1229.324 _

_We have been in orbit around the planet Dignus IV for three hours now. A society often shrouded in mystery, Dignus IV is petitioning to join the Federation and as the Fleet's flagship we have been dispatched to assess their claim. Should we find them satisfactory, the meetings shall proceed and we may well have a new member planet. In about 20 minutes I will beam down with a landing party consisting of myself, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy. Since we know so little about the Dignusians, I have deemed it wise to include both officers, as I have often come under scrutiny for leaving the ship in the ever capable hands of Misters Sulu and Scott." _

Jim Kirk, newest and youngest captain of the United Federation of Planets, sat back in his chair and gazed thoughtfully at the large purple and gold planet revolving on the viewscreen. He never felt as comfortable with diplomacy as he did with action, but he was willing to give it a shot, considering that _was_ part of his job. It wasn't like he was an idiot, far from it, he just felt a nervousness when dealing with the polished world of politicians that he didn't with the far too familiar world of villains and miscreants.

Besides, not much was known about Dignus IV, as he had entered in the log. It was a planet that seemed rather isolationist. Scans seemed to bounce off of it and any attempt to contact the people often resulted in a polite refusal to mix with others. Frankly, it was the rumors that got off the planet that worried him, rumors of a race of beings that were more controlling and less benevolent.

Well he wasn't going to find out any more sitting around the _Enterprise. _

The twenty minutes went by quickly and Jim found himself beaming down into a decadently decorated throne room. Tapestries hung from the walls, depicting everything from the forging of antique weaponry to the unique designs of the planets enigmatic space ships. That should have been his first clue; this race had an obvious love of history. McCoy gave a low whistle of appreciation and even Spock raised an eyebrow in surprise at the elegance of the room as the three were given a few seconds to appraise their landing site before a being rushed forward to usher them to the throne.

The being siting on the throne would be described as closer to Vulcan than human in the grander scheme of appearances, high cheekbones and pointed ears gave the female seated there a sylvan appearance. Delicate and tall, dressed in layers of rich silk, the woman seemed nothing more than a fairy out of one of the fairytale books Jim had cherished as a child.

"Ah, the delegation of Federation members has arrived at last." Her voice was as melodious as any that the three men had run across in their travels so far and it seemed to echo faintly before fading into the vastness of her hall. Welcoming golden eyes appraised them casually as she stood and strode towards them. "We are ever so pleased to meet you."

Jim nodded and returned with "The pleasure is mutual madam." Her eyes lit up as she moved closer, lithe movements bringing her within a couple feet of the men quickly. She smiled graciously as she stared at each in turn.

"I take it you are Captain Kirk, but who are these delightful gentlemen?" Jim had to bite back a snort at her comment as it could only lead to a swelling of ego for Bones ( the man puffed his chest out a little immediately)and another raised eyebrow from Spock (the half-Vulcan never could take a compliment).

"May I introduce my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy, and my First Officer Mr. Spock?" He swept a gracious arm towards his two friends and tried to keep his hopes tamped down. So far this had been relatively civil. Maybe this race wouldn't turn out to be the kind that wanted to mount his head on the wall?

"Charming, well gentleman, will you follow me?" She gestured towards a side room and turned to leave without checking their response, "I promise I don't bite." She called over her shoulder, as the trio scrambled to follow her fast footsteps.

Later on Jim would look back at the turn of events and realize that this was when it had all gone, pardon the pun, south.

The Dignusians it turned out were a race of both telepaths and time travelers and the room their Queen had so graciously welcomed them into was a tribunal hall. With a trial already set in motion.

Theirs.

"We have gathered here today to decide, based on the past actions of the United Federation of Planets, whether they are worthy of our honored presence. To do so we hereby sentence the crew of the Federation star ship _Enterprise_ to our test of worth. It is our way and always has been." The strong voice of the Queen resounded throughout the spacious hall filled with her people. Jim found himself gaping in confusion at the sudden turn of events, but managed to rally his thoughts with her last remark.

" You cannot doom my entire crew to your test." His voice was a lot stronger then he felt it would be and he felt the reassuring presences of both Spock and McCoy at his back. The two would argue and bicker like an old married couple but when the cards were down and Kirk was holding a losing hand, the two were always right there beside him, backing him up.

"Oh really? And why is that?" The question came from a young girl sitting next to the Queen at what seemed to be a judge's bench. Her voice held the innocence of childhood but her eyes betrayed an age far beyond her youthful appearance.

"Because as their Captain it is my duty to bear the weight of any all punishments set forth against them. It is my privilege and my right to act as such on their behalf." The Queen sent him a wry half-smile that turned suddenly into a severe frown.

"You who are so young and inexperienced, who knows so few of life's true lessons, would bear the brunt of our test?" Her tone held a note of confusion and condescension that had not been there previously. Jim felt the sting of her accusations acutely, as it seemed she had just recited the litany almost every one of his detractors knew by heart.

"Listen here, Madam." Jim nearly jumped in surprise as the polite yet irked voice behind him spoke out. "The Captain may look like a teenager, but he has it where it counts. He's saved our lives hundreds of times over." When he stopped another voice picked up.

"He is an exemplary leader and displays an uncanny ability to survive in the bleakest environments. Furthermore, he is a man any Star Fleet officer would be proud to serve under." Jim found himself consciously keeping his mouth closed at the unadulterated praise that tumbled forth from his two friend's mouths. He who was more used to abuse from others had never believed he would ever find such praise.

The Queen raised an eyebrow in curiosity, obviously reading the play of emotions through the three men as quickly as they had been felt. "Very well," she said with a sigh that verged on theatricality. " We shall let you and you alone prove your Federation's worth. Furthermore, we'll make it even easier for you to pass." She concentrated on him for a few moments.

"The typical test pits a combatant against a painful situation, to teach them a lesson or prove their unsatisfactory nature. Since time immemorial we have been testing civilizations, trying to find those which would most benefit from our knowledge." Jim frowned in annoyance, realizing that he finally understood why no one knew much about this planet. Anyone who got to close had probably been destroyed!

" We have found that those who enter these tests know the least about the respective pasts of their own worlds, and, as you humans are wont to say, 'those who do not learn from their history are doomed to repeat it'." Her voice had taken on a silky tone, the tone one would associate with a snake hidden in the grass.

"Generally we send them alone, but to aid you in your test we will send six of those closest to you to help you along. The beings known as Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Scott, Sulu, and Chekov will be your guides. They will help you to understand the lessons that you and by extension your Federation need to learn before we can accept an alliance. However, they will not remember you but you will know them."

Jim frowned. "But I thought you were allowing me to be the only one tested?" Heck, they weren't getting out of this easily, he might as well play along. This was already turning out to be his entire reason for hating diplomacy. Anyone this nutsy would never be joining the Federation.

"Oh we are. They are just there as a bit of… incentive." She smirked at him. "A reason to try your hardest if you will. Only once you have learnt the values your world has neglected to instill properly will you be returned and your people set free. It will be our only concession to your Federation."

"And if I refuse?"

A dark glint entered the Queen's eyes. " You may not refuse. If you feel the need to do so, we will slaughter your entire crew while you watch in agony. Refusal would prove your… unworthiness."

Jim turned to Spock and McCoy. "Spock, Bones, do we have any other options?" His heart sank when Spock shook his head in the negative.

" My scans indicate that the Dignusians are at least ten times as powerful as the Talosians* Captain Pike encountered some years ago." Jim nodded as Bones stared morosely at his medical tricorder.

"So they're another race of super beings out to torture us humans. Typical." Spock raised an eyebrow at the comment but let it slide, now wasn't the time to be arguing about species. Jim tried to wipe the frown off of his face and replace it was a calm smile as he turned to face the Queen and her gathered court.

"May I at least know which time I am being sent to?" His question thus sealing his acceptance the Queen smiled a toothy grin and replied smoothly.

"I am sending you to your United States of America during the period you humans call your Civil War. Late 1800s if I am correct?" Jim swallowed and nodded stiffly.

"Good luck, dear boy. We'll be watching your progress with earnest delight! Do not worry, you'll be set up with some provisions. Just remember, you _are_ acting on behalf of your people. Make this one chance count!" Jim tried not to sigh in resignation as the world faded around him.

No one outside of his hometown knew that American history was the one subject he had consistently flunked. Oh boy.

*Talosians are an extremely strong race of telepaths from the Original Series. They were so strong that the planet of Talos IV was deemed off limits with the death penalty attached to any who visited it. I don't know if they exist in AOS, but it was the best comparison I could come up with.

**AN: So this prologuish chapter is over. Good, bad, ugly? Let me know! (Flames will be used to keep poor Jim-boy warm) XD**


	2. A Lesson in Empathy

**AN: I have high hopes for this story. No really. I want it to do well! It requires a lot of research to write, but hopefully it'll turn out okay! Oh and about the coal mine I use in this chapter, the Cameron Colliery really did exist in the area known as Coal Township, near Shamokin, Pennsylvania. It was an active coal mine from 1837-1970. It is a little known fact that Pennsylvania produced an important amount of coal for the Union during the Civil War… **

"Sir, are you quite alright? Sir?" Gentle hands shook Jim's shoulders as he opened bleary eyes and glanced at his surroundings. He felt muzzy, as if he had just woken from a deep slumber where for no reason at all, save a red alert, was he to be roused. As his eyes began to focus properly Jim realized that a young woman was staring at him in concern and that not only was he not wearing his standard Starfleet uniform, he was sitting in a small restaurant that was definitely not on the _Enterprise._

"I'm fine mam, just dozing." He supplied the easiest reply that came to mind as his brain struggled to bring him back up to speed. Memories crashed in on him, memories of the strange purple and gold planet of Dignus IV, the trial set for him and his crew, and, worst of all, the ultimatum given him by the Queen. Jim brought a hand up to his forehead as one of his increasingly chronic migranes began to make itself known. This was not going to be a good day.

"Right, right. I just wondered. You see, you've been asleep here for an hour or so and I was wondering if you might kindly pay your bill?" Jim could hear a demand to leave when he heard it and, realized with no little horror, that he had nothing to pay the lady in. Reflexively, he patted his pockets and, to his complete surprise, found something in them. A couple coins jangled discordantly against his palms and he reached in hoping he had enough to pay for the… whatever the lady assumed he had consumed. He pulled out a couple coins and watched as the woman's eyes grew round in surprise.

"You have real money?" Her voice was hesitant and Jim found himself wondering _'As opposed to what? Fake money? Monopoly dollars?'_ He nodded and asked politely if that would be enough for what he owed. He finally noticed the empty mug in front of him and the aroma of coffee that seemed to waft from its empty confines. So that's what he was being charged for! The woman nodded eagerly, plucked a coin or two from his open palm and turned to leave with her prize, a wide smile on her face.

What exactly was going on here that he could make a lady so happy with a few pieces of metal? He found it hard to believe that they were so important, but then again, the Federation had been coinless for at least a hundred years since credits were tabbed digitally. Jim figured he might as well discover what else was in his newly acquired clothes and, as he glanced at his feet, rucksack. Casually gathering the item up, Jim emerged from the dim store into bright sunlight. Blinking to adjust to the sudden change, he took in his surroundings.

A dusty road and several small wooden buildings greeted him as he stood in the lane, with tree covered mountains stretching off into the distance. A gaping hole in one of the mountains and a system of wooden apparatuses gave him more of a hint as to what was going on in this town. A system of tracks led up to said mountain, and even from this distance Jim could see people trundling back and forth with carts. He found further confirmation of his situation when he, upon finding a nice shady spot for a moment, pulled out several little slips of paper with the words "Cameron Colliery, PA" stamped carefully on them.

"I go back in time to the 1800s and the first place I get stuck is a coal mining town? What could I possibly learn here?" It wasn't like mining of that sort was done all that often in the twenty third century , and, when it was, it was a heck of a lot safer than he remembered hearing this time period being. Anyone who did this kind of work for a living had to be desperate. Or stupid. He sighed as he again stared at the slips trying to remember what they used to be called. If only he had paid a little more attention in Mrs. Izar's tenth grade history class!

Further exploration of his new belongings proved that he had one extra pair of clothing, a grand total of 20 small coins, a hand mirror, some assorted toiletries, and a sealed envelope. He carefully unsealed the envelope, pulling out the thin sheaf of paper trapped within. Beautiful curling handwriting covered the paper and he found himself intrigued despite his annoyance.

_Dear James,_

_I know that you have plenty of questions, but dear boy I can only tell you this. The mirror given you is your last thread of contact with the world you knew. You will be given three chances to contact us through it. Contact is only allowed in two circumstances: surrender or threat of death. We do not wish you to die or surrender but allowances must be given for that which cannot be controlled. _

_A little bit of information will be given you with each new lesson. _

_One: Don't lose your scrip. You'll have to pay for food somehow. _

_Two: Talk to the management facility. Try getting a job. _

_Three: Try pretending to be a farmer. It's a more plausible profession than that of 'Starship Captain' in such a time._

_Check this paper periodically for any new instructions. It will change with time and your acquaintances. _

_Stay safe,_

_The Queen_

A group of little girls wandered by, each carrying a bucket full of water and Jim decided that he'd ask them for directions to find management. He might as well follow the instructions given him for now. At least the information had jogged his memory a little. Memories of a centuries old song, lamenting the company store and the mining corporations influence on the poor miners, surfaced and he realized with a jolt that those little slips of paper were the oft maligned scrip.

"But what does mining have to do with the conflict going on here?" he mused, as he found the squat building the little girls had directed him to. He found an elderly woman with a giant old fashioned ledger presiding over a huge desk. Of course everything here to him seemed old fashioned and would as long as he stayed.

"Can I help you sir?" The woman glanced up from her book, a pen poised carefully above one of the pages. Jim found himself awkwardly silent for a moment. This was utterly ridiculous! To paraphrase, he was a Captain not a coal miner! He swallowed his pride though, if giving himself something like Black Lung would save his crew, he'd gladly do it.

"Yes mam, I'd like a job."

XXX

Jim found his quarters relatively quickly. He was sharing a large room with a dozen other men who probably couldn't quite pay for a house of their own. It was a high ceilinged room with rows upon rows of cots. He paid for it with the slips of paper from his pocket. The landlord hadn't really seemed all that concerned with a newcomer already having company money since Jim had explained it away with his embellished cover story. He was James Tiberius Kirk, former corn farmer turned coal miner when his fields started dying. His brother George had worked for the company elsewhere and saved him some scrip to start out with so he could save his meager life savings a little bit longer. It wasn't extravagant, but then again the best cover stories weren't.

The older lady who had given him the papers to sign had told him that he could begin this afternoon if he wanted, and so Jim had quickly dropped off his few belongings in his room and headed out to the mines. If he had been expecting at least a modicum of sanity from the place, his hopes were dashed immediately. For instead of a clean, bright, quiet workspace he found a dark, damp, noisy set of caverns that lead deep into the mountains. Cameron Colliery's mine shafts were dug out as rooms with support pillars and mined till not a bit of the precious substance remained. The number one shaft, a foreman explained when Jim presented himself, was producing enough anthracite coal to fuel the Union's plans indefinitely. Pennsylvania was doing her part to fuel the Union, he claimed, and Mr. Lincoln was doing his part to bring back those undeserving, upstart Rebels.

With his abysmal memory of the Civil War, Jim wisely kept quiet and took the pickaxe offered him.

The descent was enough to set his teeth on edge. It didn't help that the mine car he was sitting in jinked and jerked at each twist and turn in the tracks, threatening to throw him out. Jim had never been particularly claustrophobic, but down here the walls seemed to close in on him and the meager light produced by his newly acquired helmet did little to push back the cloying darkness. What he would've given at that moment for the reassuring presence of Spock and Bones at his back, one offering gruff comfort, the other a soothing remark about the illogicity of the entire situation.

Then again, he was going to find them soon enough here right?

When he reached the frontlines of the mining operation, Jim found himself being ordered to attack a wall with his pick axe. Part of him wanted to scream in frustration at his situation as he swung the heavy tool into a rather solid wall, while the other part wanted to find the nearest authority and tell them that it was unethical to have ten year olds in here with him! That's right, next to him were a couple teenagers methodically swinging and a young boy loading the coal into carts and taking out as much as possible. These kids needed to be in school or at home or anywhere other than the bottom of a dripping shaft, ripping rocks from a wall! What kind of idiots were these miners?

Anger lent strength to him and Jim was more than a little surprised when he heard a whistle which obviously signified a shift in teams. He was sweaty, his muscles ached, and he knew that he was covered in coal dust from head to toe. His normally fair hair was probably unrecognizable, as coated with dark dust as it must be by now. Anger mostly spent, Jim also must've been more tired than he thought because as he turned to cross the tracks beat into the floor, he didn't notice the incoming cart filled with men. A quick hand grabbed the back of his once white shirt and yanked him back, just in time to stop the cart from slamming into him and knocking him senseless.

Jim whirled and found himself facing one of the teenagers he had seen earlier and gotten so worked up about. A pair of all too familiar green-grey eyes stared back at him and Jim almost felt his knees buckle. Here Pavel Chekov stood, breathing in the bi-product of the black gold that surrounded him. This black gold stained his skin the color of the southern slaves, binding him as the chains bound the dark field workers in the south to a master, a master known as the company store. Gone was the pale skinned wunderkind that spouted mathematical equations like he was discussing the weather, the kid who looked as if he would fall over if a strong wind blew him hard enough. Here was a young man living a life far too harsh for one so young.

Suddenly this whole exercise in futility had become _real_.

"Mister", a voice with an even thicker accent than normal (_and was that even possible?_) greeted him and pulled Jim from his daze. "You need to vatch vhere you are valking. I know you are new, but please, it costs money to fix injuries, da?" The young man's eyes were filled with concern for a man he didn't even know and Jim felt something in him break a little.

"Okay kid, I'll be more careful." His voice was hoarse from a couple hours disuse as he climbed into the nearest cart with the boy he knew as Chekov. Come to think of it, he hadn't learnt his savior's name. Did everyone go by the same names here? That would make his life at least a little easier…

"Good, good. I vould not vant to see anyvun hurt! Especially not after poor leetle Stephen lost a couple fingers last veek. Dr. Smith vas not pleased at all. I am Pavel Andreivich by the vay." He stuck out a hand cheerily as the car trundled on towards the entrance of the mine. Jim nearly sighed in relief at the almost identical name. He'd just have to remember not to call him Ensign or something.

"I'm James T. Kirk. Nice to meet you too, especially since you just saved my life. Thank you." Jim took the proffered hand and pumped it as their car emerged into a nighttime that was more than a little unexpected. Just how many hours had a been working? Jim darted a glance at the lanky young man next to him and knew from experience that beneath all the grime and dirt, the young man was probably blushing madly. Chekov took praise like that, with a shy confidence that spoke of his rather large amount of modesty. Jim could never figure out why a kid with that much intelligence could lack so much confidence.

"Eet vas nothing." The shy smile was there, startlingly white against his darkened skin. "If you have never vorked in a mine before, the first day is a leetle hard." Jim shrugged in surrender.

"Was it that obvious?" He asked resignedly as the two headed down towards the town.

"I am sorry, but yes. It vas in the vay you held the axe. You vill have wery, wery sore hands tomorrow. But it ees okay. Tomorrow I vill show you how to hold it and you vill get used to it." It was Pavel's turn to shrug in resignation, and Jim could tell there was more to his words than the pleasant tone expressed.

By this time they had reached the house that Jim was staying in, and to his surprise, Chekov turned to go in as well. "Are you staying here too?" Jim asked, remembering that the Pavel he knew at least had parents to go home to on his shore leave trips spent in Star City, Russia. The young man nodded and gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

" It is vhere all the orphans and new miners stay." He said softly, as he reached for the door handle. Jim stood stock still in the dark as the implications of the statement hit him. So the teenager was all alone in the world, kind of like he had felt as a kid only worse. He had never been a slave forced to work in the mines.

"Well I guess I'm in the right place since I'm both." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Pavel paused on the doorstep and turned to look at him. Jim couldn't see his expression, as the light from inside silhouetted the slender form.

"Then ve are brothers in circumstance. Come in, Mr. Kirk. I am sure ve can find something tasty to eat." Jim could hear the acceptance in Pavel's tone and for once was happy for blurting out something that only ever brought him pain. Maybe the young man would open up a little more to him and Jim could figure just what exactly he was supposed to be learning from this mess.

"It's Jim, Pavel. Call me Jim. Mr. Kirk was my father. I'm just Jim." He couldn't tell, but Jim thought he sensed the barest hint of a smile as the young man turned and entered the building.

"Vell hurry up 'just Jim' because it looks like Harrison is gobbling down all our victuals!"

His chance to talk with the boy came later on in the evening, after he and Pavel had both scrubbed the grime off themselves (_what do you know, his navigator really was under all that dust!)_ and eaten dinner with a mixed group of teenagers and gruff adults who were down on their luck because of the war (_apparently he wasn't the only one whose 'farm' had failed or whose dreams were dying)_. As both were laying in the cots in the large ward room, Jim found the time to ask the question that had been bothering him since the discovery of his rescuer's identity in the mines.

"So why coal mining?" He watched as Pavel stiffened for a moment and then relaxed as he thought it through.

" My grandparents vere immigrants to America and found vork here in the mines. My father followed his father in the mining business and naturally I vas to go into my father's line of trade." His voice was soft and tired, as if he had repeated this story to himself many times over.

"So you do something so dangerous just because your dad did it and thought that was right?" The idea seemed preposterous to Jim, especially when you took into account the toll on the body that mining wreaked. Chekov bristled a little.

"Did you not become vhatever you vere before because your father did it, and his father's father before him?" Jim was about to retort with a resounding _NO_ when it hit him.

He was a starship captain just like his dad.

He had a hero complex just like George Kirk.

His job wasn't exactly safe and cuddly either.

"I guess you're right." He muttered grudgingly. "But that doesn't make it right! Do you really love mining Pavel? Is it what you always wanted to do with your life, digging rocks day in and out to serve some corporate interests?" The young man next to him was silent so long that Jim thought he had fallen asleep. Perhaps he had pushed too far? After all this Chekov did not know him the way the one he was used to did.

"No. I vanted to be an engineer. I vanted to design safer technology vith vich to dig. But there vas not the money for it, ewen as a child, and after the accident it vas entirely out of the question." He paused and Jim felt sorry for pushing him to talk. " Vhen father vas crushed by the cave in, mama just gave up. She died not a year after my father passed on. Ve vere already in debt then and now I vill be paying that debt off for the rest of my life." Chekov sighed and Jim realized with dismay that this Pavel may look happy on the outside, but on the inside he was going through a torment the gentle soul he knew could never have deserved. In many ways it sounded similar to the miserable childhood he had spent with Frank, the man who had tormented, beat, and put him down, promising the young Jim that he would never amount to anything more than a forgotten stain on the sole of history. But at least he had places to escape to then, Pavel didn't have that option!

" I am resigned to my fate," he continued, " besides, ve are helping the Union to vhip those nasty Rebels, da? If I can help my country and pay off my debt, then all the better. I vish I could be a soldier though. They get to see the rest of the country, they have spiffy clothes, and people treat them vith respect. After all, I deal vith death ewery day, this vould only be death in a slightly different form."

"That's quite a few good reasons. Thank you for sharing with me Pavel, I think I understand better now." The young man rolled over and gave Jim a cautious smile.

"You are velcome, now tell me about you. Vhere are you from?" Jim sighed and tried to remember if Iowa had been a state during the War Between the States. After pondering the thought far longer than was necessary he settled with a very noncommittal response.

"Far away, very far away."

"You mean like Wermont far?"

"Yeah, let's go with that."

XXX

A week passed by quickly, then two, then three. At the end of the first week Jim had stopped feeling sore when he swung his pick axe, by the second he was hauling in just as much coal as the more experienced miners, and by the third he had fallen into a rhythm so complete that he found plenty of time to think to himself. Through it all Pavel was his fast friend, soon becoming a lifeline to the temporally displaced Captain. He explained the process of mining that Jim could fob his lack of knowledge off on his 'former' profession. He taught him songs that the miners sang to pass the time and how to tell when a cavern was probably filled with the ever explosive firedamp. Jim found himself seeing a side of the young man that he had seen often, a rougher side to be sure, but just as kind and just as caring.

Furthermore, try as he might originally to hate these people that he had considered beyond dumb for doing such dangerous work for so little pay, Jim found himself realizing how hard their life was. After weeks of working with them he now understood their lifestyle and understood that the snooty attitude he had come in with was so far from reality that he might as well beat himself over the head for his own stupidity. These were a strong people, full of a powerful work ethic and pride for the services they were rendering their country during her darkest hours. The summer of 1863 morphed into the fall and Jim found friends in more than the familiar Pavel.

'_When I first came here I judged the miners without understanding them. Then I started to sympathize with them after seeing their working conditions. Finally, after talking to Chekov and toiling down here in the dark and damp for three weeks I've finally begun to empathize with them. Could that be it? Was I meant to learn empathy for others? I never considered myself particularly devoid of such caring, but then again after thinking about my initial reactions? When I found out that my former navigator was a child miner, I blamed him for his situation until he made me realize otherwise. Hm… that has to be it! They must have been trying to teach me to look beyond a situation's particulars and empathize with what Spock would call the 'human element'.' _

Jim was in a rush to finish his shift as soon as he deduced what might be the true meaning behind his stay in the Cameron coal mines, so much that even the somewhat oblivious Pavel caught the feeling.

"Jim are you okay? Vhat is it?"

"Nothing, Ch-Pavel, nothing." The young man gave him a look that spelled out his confusion clearly, but Jim just ignored it and continued to hack at the coal surface. He was positive that there would be a change in the letter tucked into his rucksack when he got back to the boarding house.

He was right.

_Dearest James, our favorite miner, _

_Your efforts have provided the Union forces with a fair amount of fuel, but further more they have allowed young Pavel Chekov and his fellows to teach you something your own prejudice could not have. Call it a lesson in empathy. You will never again judge a people by their situation, we are quite sure. _

_Your next move? Hang up the pick axe and travel North to where the iron lines crisscross the nation. The money you have should be sufficient to buy freedom from the coal mines for yourself and possibly one other with ample left over for later expenditures… that is if you haven't spent it frivolously. _

_Quite Proud,_

_The Queen_

Jim punched the air in delight. A few hours later, a very shocked Pavel Chekov (_he was going North, he was going to see the country, he was leaving the dreaded mines!)_ and a confused mine director (_just how had two lowly miners, an orphan and a drifter put together enough real money to pay off their bills?!)_ later, the two young men were headed North to seek their fortunes in uncertain times.

' _Iron lines? That has to mean railroads. Even I'm not that bad at history. But what could railroads have to do with life lessons? Then again I would never have connected coal mines with empathy.'_ Jim sighed and smiled slightly. He was moving forward at last. '_Here's to finally finding out!'_

**AN: This is the longest chapter of any story I have ever written. Now I can't write v's and w's without getting them turned around ( thanks a lot Chekov!). I hope this was enjoyed and that people find it worth the read. We're easing Jim into this history thing, don't worry it'll speed up soon enough.**


	3. A Lesson in Hope

**AN: Many thanks to the people who have reviewed my story. Every review is precious to me, especially since this is almost the least popular story I've ever written. But it's so much fun to write that regardless of others I'm going to, pardon the pun, soldier on with it. Anyways, thank you again to those who have reviewed my humble story. Sorry about the huge lapse in updates! And to my fellow Americans, Happy 4****th**** of July!**

Jim and Pavel found themselves sitting in the last car of a troop carrier, barely able to squeeze on and pay their way. Jim's once plentiful money had started to dwindle the farther north the two traveled, especially as the amount was probably designed for one. The two of them, 'ex –farmer' and ex-coal miner, were going to have to find a job, something that Jim really didn't want to do in the 1860s.

_(For crying out loud, he'd already served his time in the mines! That was punishment enough right?)___

For all his worries (_he'd only found one crew-member, just one!_), Jim found himself enjoying the ride, watching the countryside pass by him and reveling in the speed beneath his feet. Bones had once declared that he was an adrenaline junkie, one step away from a fall.

Pavel too was fascinated by the changing countryside, eyes wide and body still. The young man, child of immigrants, had never been beyond the Cameron Colliery and, as Jim was coming to realize, was one of those barely adults who would only get to see their country because of the war. To the roaming starship captain, a man who could barely stand being trapped on the Earth, the idea of living one's life out within the 20 mile radius of where you were born was anathema.

"So vhere exactly are ve heading, Jim?" The question had been asked every day of their week long travels on the rails. One day the answer was 'wherever the rails take us', another, "Vulcan, West Virginia, you know in that new state?', just for the sake of a private joke after Jim had perused a newly drawn map. Chekov had strong feelings about the new state, exclaiming that it was the beginning of the end for the Confederates if the Union could carve entire states out of their territory.

(Personally, Jim wondered how long that state was gonna survive if two factions were fighting over it.)

Today Jim finally had a true answer for him. "We're heading to Elmira, New York." His lovely, ludicrous enchanted letter, and Jim knew he was going stir crazy when his sarcasm started using alliteration, had changed this morning, declaring that the path to Elmira was almost cleared.

Chekov accepted the answer with a trust that Jim wished wasn't so absolute.

That night, after eating the bare minimum, Jim discovered that there wasn't enough money left to continue their journey on the rails. They had at most, one day left, just one day, before they reached Elmira!

The next morning brought their eviction from the third class cabin they'd been using, leaving them in some rural New York town with little money and no food to their names. "I guess ve find vork now, yes?" Pavel was happy enough, smiling as if this sort of thing was normal for him. Jim however was not looking forward to any of the jobs this town could possibly offer. As a dear, grumpy friend would say, 'He was a Starship Captain not a hostler/apothecary apprentice/shoe maker/tailor'. Without realizing it, Jim began to fall back into the same pit of despair that he'd felt when standing before the Queen's court.

(He even briefly considered signing up with the Union Army, if just for the pay. He could do soldier.)

"I'm feeling like that's gonna be a little bit useless, buddy." His comment fell upon deaf ears as his eager traveling companion made his way over to a wall papered over with flyers. Jim supposed that there was probably some work listed there.

(_He fervently prayed that farm work wasn't listed. Just because he was from Iowa and pretending to be a farmer didn't mean he knew jack about potatoes and corn and cows…)_

"Aha! Here is a good job, ya?" Pavel had pulled a flyer from the wall, one with a big help wanted sign. Jim let out a sigh of relief when he noted that it was railroad work, plain and simple railroad work. How hard could that be, right?

An hour later as Jim shed layers and the sun beat down unmercifully on his rather pale skin (the mines did wonders for his tan), he found out just how hard laying down tracks could be. And it wasn't even like they were getting paid a lot.

"Nope, definitely hopeless. We will be stuck here in Podunkville forever." Next to him, Pavel ignored his muttering and continued to drive spikes into the dull red earth, far stronger than Jim would have considered him. "I mean look at John Henry over here, putting 'em down like his usual self does vodka shots." Jim was moderately lucky that the clang of hammer on spike covered his anachronistic comment.

The foreman, a sweaty native who Jim privately swore had never heard of deodorant, just shouted at them to work faster, all the while sipping on a nice cool lemonade. Some part of Jim wondered whether Star Fleet recruits should be warned when they signed up that crap like this was a possible outcome of their careers.

(_Only psychopaths would sign up if they knew there was a chance they'd end up driving rail spikes in 1863_.)

"You, Handkerchief or whatever, help Blondie over here." Jim looked up, knowing that not only was his pace insufficient, but that he was being assigned a helper. Ears burning in embarrassment, Jim continued working, only to freeze at the cheery voice that he knew all too well.

"Hikaru sir, but you're getting closer everyday!"

"I'll call you what I want to call you, you yellow china-man!"

Jim almost turned around and lugged the hammer at the toad of a foreman. How dare he insult his helmsman like that! That was incredibly incorrect, incredibly rude, incredibly racist, and…

Apparently incredibly commonplace.

Not a hand was raised against 'Smelly', as Jim had privately dubbed him, not a word spoken in protest. Sulu walked up to him and, clapping him on the back, began to help drive Jim's stakes into the dark clay.

"How could you let him talk to you like that!" Jim hissed out of the corner of his mouth in between strikes. Turning, he finally took in the sight of his helmsman, noting that almost everything was the same, from the smiling eyes to the dark hair. The main difference Jim noted was, like everyone else here excluding him, Hikaru was more built, more muscular than the helmsman Jim knew.

Driving spikes and laying tracks were exhausting work.

"That? That's nothing. He'll be worse after a couple of drinks." Jim found he had plenty of time to contemplate the whispered response over the course of the next few hours. When they were finally released from their torment, and had laid a fair mile of tracks, Jim grabbed Pavel and introduced him to Hikaru.

"This guy here really saved my butt, Smelly over there looked about to throw stuff at me." Pavel raised an eyebrow at what he termed 'Jim's strange language', gathered the meaning, and smirked at his nickname for Foreman Smith. "It ees a pleasure to meet, you, sir."

Hikaru smiled back, "Pleasure's all mine. Why don't the two of you have dinner with me? You're new and you probably don't have a lot right? Don't be ashamed of it, we all start with nothing, but we get somewhere, eventually!" He turned without waiting for the answer, heading off in the direction of the town. "Besides, you have news of the outside world. That's definitely worth a dinner right?"

Jim shrugged. "Not too much news, but some." He and Pavel jogged after Sulu, catching up to him just outside of the door to the local bar.

"If your stories are good enough, the bartender may even give you a round on the house." Jim perked up at that slightly. He was nothing if not a tale teller. One of the first degree.

As Jim expected, Sulu, who went by the last name Smith and had actually been 'adopted' (kidnapped on a missionary trip to the east) by Smelly at a young age when the man needed a bit of slave labour, became fast friends with the displaced Pavel Andreivich. The two were thick as thieves in thirty minutes, comparing the hard lives they'd lived, discussing the scars they'd earned, watching the pretty serving girls who, Jim guessed, may have taken a little too much fun in leading on the gangly Pavel.

"How are you still so enthusiastic?" Jim couldn't help the question that popped out of his mouth after Hikaru continued explaining the new one gauge system the North was implementing on their rails, interspersed with stories of what not to do at work, things that ended in injury or a pay dock. The young man paused, mid-word of a description of how not to use a spike hammer (in other words, the way Jim was earlier, he just couldn't catch a break with these manual tools).

"I guess I have hope that one day it'll all be better." His answer both was and wasn't what Jim expected. From Sulu Jim had come to expect the more optimistic answers he'd heard in his short career. A concrete reason he could deal with, but an abstract one? To him, hope was something fools believed in, pyrite for idiotic men. It was the harpy, the thing with feathers that for all its visits to poets, had never visited a poor abused Iowan boy in the hours of his greatest need.

Hope was for losers.

Sulu saw the shutters slam down in Jim's eyes, saw the tension that suddenly sprang into the whipcord thin body. Even Pavel noticed the sudden change, the adverse reaction to an emotion that had kept so many going.

"But enough about me, why don't you earn our table a round with a story! Even a tall tale will get us something." Sulu got up and lead Jim to the bar where a knot of patrons were listening to one of their own spin a tale of moonshine and midnight mischief. Jim, in an effort to forget everything if just for an instant, sat down. As one the men turned to stare at him.

And Jim began.

Spinning a tale of his first days in space, couched in terms that featured entirely earthly denizens (Spock somehow became an Englishman, and wasn't that funny?), Jim stole the show. His table was shown round after round of ale.

When he, Sulu (he refused to mentally call him Smith. That was fracking ridiculous), and Pavel had their fill, he capped the tale off and the three of them retired to a small room that Sulu was renting. Of course the room was small and cramped, the fare of a young man who was being prejudiced against in a time where prejudice was given to anyone who wasn't 'white'. Of course he wouldn't live with his 'father'. The man probably couldn't stand the thought of someone who wasn't his race sleeping in the room just across the hall. Jim fervently thanked his lucky stars that he didn't actually have to grow up in this time period, a time where so far two people who he considered family would have lived miserable lives.

Living in space was dangerous, but at least death came in a flash instead of at the hands of runaway rail cars and black lung disease.

The next day, hung over and tired, Jim dragged himself to work, wondering how Chekov and Sulu could not only be so sober, but so _cheerful_. "That's just demonic, really. I blame the stupid Queen for their perkiness. She just knows that annoys me, doesn't she," he muttered, grabbing his hammer for the day. The tracks they were laying were supposed to meet up with another set, enabling faster transportation of goods and troops to the Northern army in the South. Jim was quickly learning that most of the war was taking place in the South. News was still trickling in from somewhere called Gettysburg, a place that Jim had learned was the highest the South had managed to breach the Northern defenses.

The way the people talked about the Confederate Army, Jim found it hard to believe that the people had ever been related. It seemed as if each side hated the other, wishing nothing but harm on people who were once neighbors and often family. Reading about the events in a textbook had been one thing (when he'd even read them), but seeing them first hand was its own kind of terrifying. His musings were interrupted by the sharp crack of a glass bottle on his back. Jolting forward, Jim tumbled into the railroad ties, banging his head on the solid steel. Within seconds, Pavel and Hikaru were at his sides, pulling him off the tracks.

"VHAT THE HELL VAS THAT!" Chekov's roar of fury was something that Jim had never heard before in either life, a sound so unusual for the happy-go-lucky navigator that Jim found himself cringing back from the sound. His head was swimming and all he could see was Smelly, leaning over him with sadistic glee that his aim had been true.

"You signed on to work, not to daydream. If you can't work properly, I gotta motivate you a little!" He spat on Jim, and it was only Sulu who stopped Pavel from jumping the smug foreman.

"Then ve quit. Ve do not need the money of a man who cares so leetle for others." Foreman Smith shrugged. Turning he threw back a parting remark,

"Then quit, there are plenty of migrant bums in need of work. Get 'em their stuff and get him off my rails, yella." Sulu looked for a moment as if he were going to protest their boss' decision, but, realizing Jim was in want of medical attention, decided to live to fight another day.

Together he and Pavel dragged the dazed Jim off to Sulu's small rooms. Jim came to his senses with a bit of cold water, but was dismayed to learn that the gash on his back was going to require stitches. Honest to god stitches! Cat-gut in his body! And what if he caught a disease?

Where was Bones when you needed him?

After the doctor had not only reassured Jim that he was very clean and complied with what was to him a strange request to wash his hands three times, Jim was sewed up and told to take it easy for a little while. When Sulu paid the man, Jim tried to stop him, only to be shot down by the stern rail worker.

Jim knew that if they had been in trouble before, they were in it worse now. News spread quickly around a small town and they would be branded as lazy, no-good, layabouts by noon. No one would hire them and he and Pavel were still without pay, since money came at the end of the week and they had only worked a day and a half. He was going to have to come up with something quick, something that would get them-

"Here, take this." Sulu was pressing a wallet into his hand. Before Jim could stop himself, his fingers were closing around the beaten leather.

"I can't. Here," he tried to shove it back, but Hikaru just shook his head. "You are in more need of it now, than I ever will be. Use it to get out of town, away from Smith and his lies." Jim tried to return the wallet again, but in vain. Sulu was adamant.

"You need this money, okay? Without it you'll be living on the streets, and trust me that's no way to live." Dark eyes spoke of an unhappy past that everday smiles hid quite well, that of a child who grew up on the streets only to be 'rescued' by a missionary named Smith. Promised the Kingdom and given purgatory instead.

"How vill we ewer repay you?" Chekov looked at him with wide eyes, surprised at the kindness of a man who was still in many ways a virtual stranger to the two of them.

"You," he pointed at Chekov, " find a way to get that education you always wanted, and you," he gave Jim a smile, "work on that swing of yours. It's probably better that you're not keeping this job." Jim pulled a face at him, but smiled gratefully. A small part of his heart found a glimmer of hope in the immutable goodness of his scattered crew, that some things were constants in the universe. Suddenly it all slotted into place again.

Sulu had returned to him a thing he had once thought impossible to refind: hope.

"You won't regret this Hikaru. Thank you so much." Jim's sincerity, coupled with one of his first genuine smiles since this fiasco began had Hikaru laughing.

"Just jump on the noon train as it leaves the station. The last car is full of straw for the cavalry horses. No one will check there." With repeated goodbyes, the ex-coalminer and slightly injured starship captain carefully waited, doing exactly as Hikaru said.

10 minutes past noon found the pair laughing as they sat, straw covered, at the edge of the train's car, and watched as the outside landscape again turned to a blur of greens, browns, and blues. The train had previously been moving just slow enough for Kirk to grab onto a rail on the side of the car and swing himself and a very doubting Russian boy up into the open storage space. Fortunately a bail of straw had broken their fall.

Kirk had already checked his letter, noting with annoyance the Queen's wry insult to his 'physical capabilities'. Besides this it still pointed him in the direction of Elmira. Jim slapped Pavel reassuringly on the back and was about to scoot closer to the wall opposite the door when his foot came into contact with a very large object. He looked down and jumped back, practically landing in Pavel's lap.

"Voah, vach out! I vould like to stay in za car," Pavel laughed, reaching over and sliding the train car door shut. Kirk didn't respond and so Pavel looked in the direction in which Kirk had. He found himself looking at the first occupant of the car.

The boy was shorter than most. Nay, he was perhaps an inch taller than Pavel, which wasn't saying much. The boy's chest heaved slowly, indicating he was in fact alive. His face was obscured by the darkness, aided only by a square cut in the top of the box through which a dim light filtered in. Even if there had been light, a hat lay over the dozing kid's eyes.

Kirks eyes were drawn not to the state of the traveler's clothes, which said much about economic situation, but rather the knife clutched tightly in the palm, as one would lovingly hold a teddy bear. He suddenly wondered if his next lesson was a lesson in pain.

**AN: Dun,dun da…. So yes there really is a Vulcan, West Virginia (150****th**** year for the state, woot woot!) and yes Jim is particularly bad at geography in conjunction with history. No one can be perfect right? Asians played a large role in expanding the Northern railways. As to Foreman Smith, missionaries and slavers brought back Asian children. Normal families adopted them as well. In fact a pair of Siamese twins were brought to the US to be part of a circus and their descendants fought for the south in the Civil War… Anyways, reviews are love guys! **


End file.
